Hope Springs
by Zarabethe
Summary: Mae's visions don't always show pain. One-shot, set four years after Scepter: A Winter Veil Special and nineteen years after the end of Outcast.


**Author's Notes: This is just a little slice of life one-shot, but it needs to be read before I get to the next Winter Veil Special. This is set four years after the first WV, and almost a year before the second (which will be coming at the appropriate time) Trigger Warning: Loss Mentioned.**

* * *

The order sheet in front of Mae blurred again, and she rubbed her eyes. She didn't have time for her visions this morning: this sheet was due by noon. The reagent shop that they lived above was a tiny one, small but very busy. Kalibose did work for the owner, gathering and labeling and stocking, and she had agreed to take on some of the paperwork as well. It was easy work, and she was paid for it, but this past week had been especially difficult. She'd had visions almost every night, and they were the worst ones: nonsensical, full of emotions and sensations but light on anything that she could pinpoint. She'd tried to keep them to herself, but Kalibose was relentless when he was worried about her, and he knew about every single one. He'd been reluctant to go to work this morning, but she'd smiled and shooed him out, and told him she needed to work in quiet. This was all true, but now the headache, never very far these days, had returned and she couldn't concentrate. She sighed and pushed the paper away. Maybe some tea would help.

Their kitchen, like everything else in their apartment, was tiny but cozy. She had decorated it slowly with everything they brought back from trips to Pandaria: silk curtains dyed in the colors of the sunset, miniature bonzai trees, a beautiful hand-painted ceramic tea set on a bamboo shelf. The last had been very expensive, and she still had no idea how he'd done it, but somehow Kalibose had hidden away enough money to get it for her for Winter's Veil. Mae stood for a moment in the middle of the kitchen and breathed in the scent of sandalwood and lavender incense in the burner. This was truly her favorite room in their apartment. Everything was neat and tidy and in its place, with cute rows of tea tins lined up on their own shelf, next to the bigger tin for sugar and Kalibose's coffee. Even the dish towels were neatly folded in their drawer, and all the dishes were put away. So why did she stand here, and feel that tickling feeling on the back of her neck that something was odd?

She sat the kettle on the stove to boil, and wandered to the rest of the apartment. It was chilly this morning: early January was frigid in Elwynn Forest, much colder than the weather she had grown up with in Ashenvale. Some mornings, especially the cold ones like this one, she missed her home. She kept this feeling quiet inside of her: she felt almost selfish, to miss something that her mate could never see again. She still visited sometimes, but each time she felt so guilty that she didn't enjoy it near as much as she wished she could. Her headache grew sharp momentarily, and she stopped at the door jamb to their bedroom, rubbing the center of her forehead. If this persisted, she would have to visit the local pharmaceutical shop for a pain killer. She didn't want to: she knew priestesses who took enough peacebloom in concentrated form to achieve a psychedelic affect, just to escape the pain. But right now she could barely function.

She retrieved her wool shawl from where it was folded at the end of the bed and wrapped herself up in it like a cocoon. She considered briefly laying down, but she knew if she did, she might sleep the morning away. And it might hasten the vision on faster, which she did not want. Instead she moved to the window box. Their apartment was situated on the corner, so they were lucky enough to get two walls of windows. The kitchen and dining area windows had growing boxes of herbs, but the one in the bedroom was special. Mae picked up a glass of water and carefully watered the three plants in the box. The first was a lotus plant, carefully cut and brought back from Pandaria. The second was a violet, and the third, a recent addition, was a newly sprouted daffodil. It was looking well, and Mae inspected its two sisters as well. One flower for each child lost to them. The lotus flower had been here four years: it had already bloomed several times, a creamy white with a deep crimson center. The violet was more fanciful: each of its two springs in the box it had erupted into clusters of dark purple flowers, to die back into a thick bush during the winter. The daffodil had only been planted a couple months ago, and she hadn't expected it to come up for at least another month, but there it was, determinedly pushing green blades up to the winter sunlight.

"Scarlet, Lilac, Dapherell," she whispered, pointing to each flower in its turn.

She always chose girl names. She had seen it: one of the few visions she had welcomed, and clung to when reality hurt too much. Their first child would be a girl. She had seen her silver hair, she had seen her heart-shaped face, she had seen her spirit and her light. She had not seen her in her previous three pregnancies though, and so she bided her time. The last one though: the last one she had gotten her hopes up. She had let desperation cling to her heart: maybe she wouldn't know when this child would be allowed to stay with them? Maybe her gift, the terror that it was, would stay staunchly away from their family when it was time? She sighed, and pulled her wrap closer around her. Bathing herself in hope had made saying goodbye so much harder. Kalibose had at least not destroyed a piece of furniture this time.

Her headache intensified, and she grabbed at the window frame as she swayed on her feet. She felt the breathless weight in her ribcage that preceded a powerful vision and she gritted her teeth against it. She didn't want it. She never wanted them, and they always forced themselves onto her with no thought for her own opinion. She closed her eyes, and the world greyed out into nothing.

Heaviness. Responsibility. Anticipation. She was bombarded with emotions all at once. The world was black, the world was purple, the world was red. The pounding in her head grew until she thought it would split open and in a detached sort of way, she realized she had fallen to her knees. The heaviness became a physical feeling: she felt she could pick it up and cradle it in her arms, before it settled into her lower belly. She gasped, tears pricking at her eyes. The pain in her head started to ease back to a more tolerable level, and she dropped completely to the floor. Her vision faded to black momentarily, but almost immediately returned. When it did, the vision had gone, leaving that faint feeling of heaviness in her abdomen. Mae took deep breaths, trying not to be overwhelmed with the abrupt return to reality. Eventually her head ceased its pounding, and the weight in her chest lifted. It was replaced with a desperate kind of hope: could this finally be it? She put both of her hands on her belly under her tunic and felt her head flare with pain briefly. She stood, trying not to let her hands tremble as she searched the room for warm winter clothing. Her niece should be on duty at the hospital. There would be enough time, if she hurried.

* * *

Kalibose counted the bundles of mageroyal bound on the shelf and ticked off the last item on his checklist. He glanced at the clock above the register: it was nearly noontide and he hadn't seen Mae in here all morning. Unless she had slipped in when he wasn't looking? He took his completed inventory sheets behind the counter. There was nothing else in the box to be done, which meant that she hadn't been in. He felt a flicker of worry deep inside of him: she'd had a bad week, one of the worst he'd seen since they'd been together. It was possible that she had lain down to try and catch up on lost sleep. He had this sudden, intense fear that he would return upstairs to find her unconscious on the floor. _Stop it, you fucking idiot_ , he chastised himself as he pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes to make the thought leave. _She is fine, she's just running behind._

Lissa, the shop owner, gave him a wave as she dumped an armful of bruiseweed onto the counter.

"Have you seen your wife yet, Kalibose? I need to add another order of unicorn root to the order sheet, weevils got into the supply out back."

His returning smile felt strained. "Not yet. I was about to go up and check on her."

Lissa's voice was muffled as she reached under the counter for storage bags. "She usually doesn't run behind like this. Is she having another one of her headaches?"

Kalibose was already itching to leave, and started to return the items on the counter to their proper places. Gloves, snips, boxes, and ribbon were put back their shelf a little haphazardly.

"Yes."

"Poor dear." Lissa clicked her tongue as she started to bag up the bruiseweed. "You tell her that if she is too ill to finish, just bring it back down here and I'll have my nephew tend to it when he gets out of school."

"Thank you, Lissa."

Kalibose let the door slam behind him and ran straight into Brekke. He caught her about the shoulders, nearly flinging her healer's satchel to the ground in his haste. She laughed as she made a grab for it before it fell.

"Whoa there, Uncle Kalibose, are you in a hurry?"

He made himself slow down and speak to her. "Sorry Brekke. Your aunt had a headache this morning, I was just on my way to check on her." He paused, reality fully sinking into him. "What are you doing all the way over here in the mage quarter?"

She smiled at him, the look on her face full of barely concealed glee. "Oh, just a housecall. I just saw Mae, by the way, and her headache appears to be better now. You have a good day now!"

She waved at him as she continued on her way. Kalibose stared after her a moment, thoroughly confused on why Mae had been out visiting when her face looked so pale when he left this morning. Nothing was adding up today, and it made him uneasy.

He took the stairs up to their apartment two at a time. The door was unlocked, and he burst inside unceremoniously, the door hitting the opposite wall hard enough to leave a mark.

"Mae?" He called, looking in the bedroom first. Everything was in order there, except the curtain was in disarray. He straightened it, careful not to knock her plants over. He paused briefly as he noticed the daffodil had sprouted. Mae said that her flowers made her happy, that she felt satisfied turning her sadness into a living thing, but it only made his chest tight to look at them.

"In here, Kalibose."

Her voice came from the kitchen, and he left his musing to see her. She was sitting at the table, finishing up the order sheets she had been working on. She was dressed much warmer than before, with a woolen hat on top of her head and a thick cloak on.

"I hope Lissa isn't too upset I'm running late on these, but I had to catch Brekke this morning. She was on her way to work, but I found her."

Kalibose was getting really tired of being confused today. "And why did you have to see Brekke so urgently this morning?"

"Because," Mae finished the last line on the sheet with a flourish and set the pile to the side, "I needed her help with something."

She finally made eye contact with him, and her smile was brighter than he'd seen it in months. She stood and took his hands and her eyes shown at him.

"It's time, Kalibose."

Kalibose felt like everyone else knew what was happening except for him and in spite of Mae's good mood, he was starting to get aggravated. "It's time for what? What is going on that I have obviously missed?"

Mae smiled even wider, and he was shocked to see that her cheeks were wet and she had been crying.

"Mae?"

She took his hands, and moved them so that they rested on her belly. He started, finally putting all the pieces together.

"I had my vision this morning. It's time to meet our little girl."


End file.
